


Tough Lessons

by Ceminar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Bulges and Nooks, Double Penetration, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slurs, Verbal Abuse, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2174760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceminar/pseuds/Ceminar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee is tired of overhearing Kankri disrespect his religion. So he goes to teach him the proper ways of worship. Or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tough Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a request for a good friend of mine on Tumblr. I was trying out not one but two new characters (for me) writing wise. And, well... Never written Non-Con this extreme before. For the record, this isn't Blackrom, this is just pure hate.

“Kurloz! Kurloz please! This is… We can talk about this!”

Kankri was crying. He didn’t know where he was. He heard a voice that was so familiar, one he hadn’t heard in eons, telling him to watch his back. He hadn’t done anything wrong! He had… Gods, what had he been doing? He… He couldn’t remember. His head hurt, throbbing from where he had been struck.

“Wrong troll, motherfucker…”

That was not Kurloz. The hand gripping his head, pressing his face against a cold stone wall was stronger. Smaller by a margin. The arms weren’t clothes in that black skeletal patterned fabric. No… They were bare. That didn’t sooth his nerves at all.

“An’ I think ya done more than enough fucking talking for the rest of ya motherfucking sweeps, don’t you?” He pressed the others face more into the wall, grinning at his whimpers of pain. “Up and talking shit about our messiahs… Think I wouldn’t hear about that?”

Kankri squirmed against him, trying to claw at his arm, to kick at him. But he only heard the other laugh, had his head pulled back and turned to come face to painted face with the younger Makara… with Gamzee.

“Let me go, I don’t know what you’re talking about! It was just a civil discussion and-”

“Shut the motherfuck up!!!” He roared in his face, making the other flinch back. “You wanna up and talk smack about shit you know nothing about, then I think it’s time you get some fucking wicked learning on in the way of proper motherfucking worship.” He grinned wide, forcing the others mouth open and tilting his way this and that as he looked him over. “Yeah… You can put that fucking windchute of yours to better use than preaching to some false motherfucker.”

The Seer’s eyes went wide at that. What did he mean? He tried to bite at the thumb between his teeth, but it didn’t matter. He was forced to his knees and he scratched at the younger trolls legs as he went. He didn’t know what he had in mind, but he wasn’t for it.

At least, not until the hand holding him drew back, and a fist connected with his jaw. A cry left him, but the blows didn’t stop. One after another they fell until Kankri was cowering, his red blood dripping from his cut eye and busted lip. He felt like a rib was cracked and he was wheezing.

“Now…” The Makara licked the smears of red off his knuckles. Seeing this loud ass motherfucker beaten and knocked off his pedestal was fucking beautiful. Those cries and pleas for him to stop were the sweetest fucking melodies his auricular sponge clots. “Let me lay these peepers on a motherfucker. See if he’s ready for his learning…” He rolled him onto his front with his foot, laughing when he whimpered. “Yeah… I think you are… time for some teaching to get taught.”

What did he mean? Kankri had no idea but… He didn’t like it. He wanted to go. He would do anything, anything to go back to his hive. To curl up in his recuperacoon and pretend this didn’t happen… that this wasn’t happening.

But it was. Oh, it was.

It wasn’t long before the others large purple bulge was shoved into his face as his chest was sat upon. The weight on him, and the pressure on his already sore ribs made him gasp, and it was just enough for the other to slide his bulge into his mouth with a groan. The taste was horrid, to say the least, the slurry dripping off of it was bitter, mixed with his blood. The way his face scrunched did nothing from stopping the appendage from being forced further and further down his throat until he gagged and more ruby tinted tears welled up in his eyes.

“Don’t go getting all fuckin teary eyed on me. I been nice considering what a blaspheming motherfucker you is… going easy on your undeserving motherfucking self!” He laughed as he rolled his hips, letting his bulge squirm and writhe in the others throat.

But this wasn’t nearly enough for him. Watching him struggle to breathe with his bulge in the others throat wasn’t as satisfying as he though. What could he do… Oh… He glanced back at the others squirming hips. That would be the best way to get this lesson across, wouldn’t it? With a smirk, he uncapatchalogued one of his clubs, rubbing it against the others still clothed crotch. The way he struggled, his eyes flying open in fear.

“What’s the fucking matter? Think you’re too fucking good for me?” He rubbed harder before setting it down to rip at the others pants instead. He wouldn’t be assed to actually remove them. Maybe another time, but not now. He actually had to grip Kankri’s hair tight, to hold him in place to keep him from biting off his bulge as he struggled. He couldn’t have that. “Sit still motherfucker. Ain’t you up and learned your lesson about fighting back yet?” That didn’t still the hands pushing at his hips, the cries muffled by the bulge in his throat. It was so cute, like he was trying to plead with him. Like he thought he had any control over the fucking situation.

He had been given too much freedom to say what the fuck he wanted. To do what he wanted. He’d seen the fucker from afar and it was time he learned he was no better than any other motherfucker.

He slid his bulge from the others mouth then, letting it rub against his face as he gasped, tried to cough up what had dripped down his throat. “Please… Please, don’t do this…” Gamzee twitched. “My vow… I… I can’t… Please!”

How dare this unworthiest of motherfuckers even believe that he had the right to ask something of him. His vow? Fuck his vow! And he told him as much as he laughed in his face.

“I’m going to teach you this motherfucking lesson. You WILL get some motherfucking knowledge on all up in your pan about what happens when you up and fuck with us. Kurbro may not bother to put you in your place. He might let you get away with your motherfucking false preaching. But I won’t allow it!”

Kankri flinched back, still trying to plead with him, but it was no use. He was struck across the face once more to silence him, and blood filled his mouth again as the purpleblood shifted, turning to look down at his nook and groan. Ever so slightly was his nook dripping from the abuse, red material just barely coating his folds, but there was no sign of his bulge. That was fine. He wasn’t meant to enjoy this.

Gamzee rubbed his fingers roughly against him, spreading his lips as he held the neck of the club as a handle, readying the thicker part. Kankri continued to whine, to whimper, but he didn’t speak. Slowly, he rubbed the weapon against him, coating it lightly in that red as he worked to force in into him, the body under him bucking, trying to crawl away. The other cried out, voice breaking in a sob, beating on the back before him, but it stopped nothing.

“Please! Please, no! I… I can’t! Please!”

His cries only got him more worked up. Purple was drooling from the Bard’s nook, from his bulge as he slid the club out before shoving it into him, stretching the red nook wide, darker globs of red oozing from it, coating the club as he looked back to the sound of pained screaming, of crying - to see Kankri, arching painfully, tears and snot and droll coating his face as he screamed and sobbed. No words could leave his lips and to the Makara, it was the most beautiful motherfucking thing he had set his peepers on. The most beautiful piece of art he done ever had a piece in.

“Don’t go up and breaking on me now, motherfucker.” He started to move it, the added moisture from the others blood allowing it to slide in and out more easily. “You ain’t gonn’ die from some weak shit like this. You die when I SAY you can fucking die!” Again he laughed, moving it faster and faster until he got another idea. Ignoring him, he stood, grinning at the stain on the stupid red sweater he wore. Karbro knew fucking better than to show that disgusting color with pride like he did.

But no matter - He kicked him onto his side, then onto his front as he continued to revel in his misery. If he was going to learn him, then he would learn him thoroughly. How else would he properly humiliate such a self righteous fucker?

He got down behind him; rubbing against those soft globed the other called an ass. He recalled joking with his former palebro about how his ass was nice and plush, but this? This was a whole new ballpark. The way it rippled as he tore a larger hole into those pants, how, even when he tensed, it was still so jiggly when he drew back and slapped it, drawing a fresh cry from him. He was too soft. He would have to mark him later.

Gamzee slide his bulge between those plush cheeks and Kankri just hid his face in his arms. He refused to look back, refused to see how he was going to be hurt now. But it might have made it a bit easier to prepare for what was about to happen if he had known. After squeezing those cheeks together around his bulge for a few moments, he pulled back, spreading them wide until he could get a good look at that tight ring he was about to claim.

“Ya nook ain’t the only fucking hole ya got, motherfucker. I plan on ruining you for all that shit you up and fucking spoke.” He promised, starting to press into him.

How the other tensed. How he tried to crawl away, to flail, to kick the larger troll away. But he only dug his claws into his hips, pulled him back as he forced his way into that tight wastechute of his.

Fresh tears flowed. Kankri continued to scream, to cry and claw futility at the ground until that hand found his hair again and pulled his head back. He knew better than to try and beg again, but this hurt so much. His nook was still filled with the bulky club, stretched and bleeding. Now his wastechute was being filled. It was dirty. It was wrong. All of this was wrong! He had done nothing to deserve this!

But, so many would disagree. Still pulling his head back, Gamzee pushed more and more of his bulge into his chute, groaning at the tightness. It would be nearly impossible, normally. But he was determined. He rolled his hips forward, pulled out and pushed back in, savoring the whines and whimpers until he managed to slam the last inch of his bulge into him with a satisfied groan. Would he tell how could he felt? No. Would he admit how much he enjoyed pailing like this, even over the ‘proper’ way? No. Would he even consider this pailing? Hell no. This was just a lesson. That was all.

Fully seated, he pulled the bleeding, crying troll back onto his lap. He didn’t need to move to get off like this. He would take this opportunity to finish learning him. He gripped the club, moving it in and out of the others nook - feeling it press against his own bulge as he did. He tore at the sweater, at his skin, leaving deep scratches, ruby drops dripping to the floor. He bit into his back. His sides. Any inch of him he could reach like this and every cry was musical. He rolled his hips, moving the club faster as the chute he was in continued to spasm, to try to push out the intrusion. He groaned, sinking his teeth into the back of the others neck, shoving the club as far as he could as he came, flooding the other with his slurry, feeling him spasm more and more at the oddness of it all.

When he finished, he shoved the other off him roughly, his bulge waving lazily as he looked at the mess he made. The mess he had left. Purple and red dripped down the crack of the nonbeliever’s ass, running over the still filled, steadily dripping nook before pooling under him. He was bloody. Bruised.

Broken.

He bent forward, biting into one of the plush cheeks, breaking the skin, but the other didn’t cry out now. It seems that at some point, he had passed out. That just meant the Makara would have to stop by again. Give him another lesson.

He was looking forward to it.

He tucked himself away, fixed his pants, even though they were covered in slurry and blood, and kicked the unconscious troll onto his back. “Look at you, motherfucker… You ain’t dead.” He tipped his chin with his foot. Those pale eyes were glazed over, mouth hanging open like a proper receptacle. Oh, how tempting it was… Instead, he grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to his own bubble, leaving him in front of his hive.

He would let Kurbro handle the rest. Not his motherfucking problem. But he would see if this shit would say something out his mouth again.


End file.
